“She stole the damn show.”
The silence stretched for a beat before Nolan whistled. “Well I’ll be. That girl really is as good as they say, huh?”
Clayton scowled. “Better.”
Nolan chuckled. “Is that why you sound like you just lost a bar fight?”
“Didn’t lose a damn thing.” His voice was sharp, but hell, even he didn’t believe that. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Thought she’d take a few shows to get her sea legs. But she got up there, opened her mouth, and the whole damn crowd forgot I even existed.”
Nolan let out a low laugh. “Bet that stung a little.”
Clayton grumbled. “Didn’t sting. Just caught me off guard.”
“Uh-huh.” Nolan sounded amused. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Ruth said Jamie thinks you look better with a beard.”
“Is that so?” Clayton rubbed his face.
“So what are you going to do about it? Let her outshine you on your own tour?”
Clayton sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know, man. Can’t tell her to tone it down. It ain’t her fault she’s got pipes like that. Folks love her.”
“I’m sure they do.” Nolan’s voice softened. “And I get it, Clay. But maybe instead of seeing her as a problem, you should start seeing her as an opportunity.”
Clayton rolled his eyes. “You sound like Shorty.”
“Well, maybe your manager’s got a point. You’ve got two choices here. You can get pissed about it or you can step up your game. Because one way or another, Jamie Keaton isn’t about to let up any.”
Clayton let his head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
Damn it.
Nolan was right.
CHAPTER 25
JAMIE
Their next show in Atlanta went off without a hitch, and Lucky Lou from the radio station had nothing but praise for Jamie’s performance. He was several beers deep when he said it so she took the compliment with a grain of salt, but it was still nice to hear.
Sobriety had changed the way she saw everything. She could spot the drunk ones instantly—the glassy eyes, the slurred words, the false confidence that came with one too many. It was like watching the world in high definition while everyone else moved in a blur.
They were on the road to Jacksonville, Florida, with a couple of days to kill before their next concert. Jamie was studying in the bedroom when the distant wail of sirens caught her attention. At first she didn’t think much of it—until the bus slowed and eased onto the shoulder. Frowning, she closed her book and peered out the window, catching the flash of red and blue lights in the side mirror.
She stepped into the front lounge. “What the hell?”
Clayton sat on the couch, casually tying knots in a length of rope, completely unbothered. Across from him Ruth was on FaceTime with Nolan, but she quickly ended the call.
“We’re being pulled over,” Clayton said, his focus still on the rope in his hands.
“For what?” Jamie crossed her arms.
“I wasn’t speeding,” Gus called from the driver’s seat, his voice defensive.
Clayton shrugged. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Jamie wasn’t convinced. Nothing about flashing lights and sirens ever meant nothing.
Gus opened the door and two uniformed policemen walked up the steps. One was short and white, the other tall and Black. The taller officer had an air of authority about him, like he was in charge.
